Winning at the Country Fair
by Batwings79
Summary: Dr. Richard Clarkson stumbles upon a sweet prize to be won at the Country Fair. After years of working with her and knowing her, does he have the patience and the expertise to break the ice and win her heart. Presented on this Christmas day before the Christmas Special airs and turns my magical world into an alternate universe!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This plot bunny has been hopping around ever since I saw the trailer with Isobel Crawley and Dr. Clarkson at the Country Fair during the Christmas Special. I finally decided that perhaps I should commit it to paper and would like to present it to you on this Christmas morning…before the Christmas Special airs…and I find out exactly how off-base I am! LOL! This will probably become completely AU as of 8:45pm GMT on December 25**__**th**__**, 2012 but in the meantime, please enjoy my take on the possibility of romance between Mrs. Isobel Crawley and Dr. Richard Clarkson.**_

_**P.S. Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson make a brief appearance here and I have borrowed from fanon for their characters. **_

_**Disclaimer: All characters still belong to Julian Fellowes and I'm still borrowing them for my own fun. No copyright infringement is intended.**_

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He watched her wander down between the booths as the hawkers called out to the throngs to come and try their hand at winning a prize for their favorite girl, or at least for the girl they had on their arm that evening. He fell into step several paces behind her and watched as she strolled past one booth but stopped to watch at the next.

The crowds seemed to part in front of her, as if they sensed her presence and did not want to intrude upon her solitude. Watching her profile, he wondered why she seemed so melancholy. Her gaze rested on a young couple at the booth where they tossed the ball and knocked down the milk bottles to win the prize. They were about the age of her son and his new wife, and this woman was ripe with child as Mary soon would be.

Then it dawned on him, having moved up to the Abbey to take on his responsibilities as husband and keeper of the Grantham estate, she would have been left behind at Crawley House and she was likely missing the company of the young man who was not only her son but had also been her close companion and house-mate since he was a lad.

It was a warm evening with a slight breeze ruffling the ribbon on her hat and the curl that always managed to come loose behind her left ear. He had always found her countenance to be pleasing but there was something different about her tonight…something appealing, something that made him want to catch up with her, to keep her company, to try and brighten her melancholy mood.

She gave a wan smile and clapped her hands with the rest of the onlookers when the young man presented his wife with the straw doll she had picked out when they first arrived at the booth. He stepped up next to her and smiled when she turned to see who it was that had intruded on her privacy.

"Dr. Clarkson," she said as they turned and strolled along the remaining booths. "How have you been? How are things at the hospital?"

Her questions took him a bit by surprise because it was not where his thoughts had been just a few moments ago. He had been thinking of her as a mother, as a soon-to-be grandmother…as a woman.

_Alas, it would appear that she views you as a professional colleague, old man, which is probably better for you. No sense looking above your station as it were… _

"The hospital is doing well, though we could do with a pair of hands as capable as those of Nurse Crawley again…" he raised a questioning brow and allowed his voice to trail off with the unasked question.

He was well pleased when she granted him one of her warm wide smiles, all teeth and laughter. They continued to stroll up and down the aisles and even made a circuit around the fairgrounds, talking about the comings and goings at the hospital and stopping occasionally to speak with friends, neighbors and acquaintances along the way. They had been about to turn the corner to begin another circuit when the notes of a waltz began to drift across the fairgrounds. She stopped and turned with a delightful look of wonder on her face. In the twilight, he thought she looked much younger than her years and felt his breath catch a bit when he almost spoke aloud…._Lovely_…

Her brow furrowed lightly and she asked, "What is that?"

"I believe it is 'The Rose of Picardy', if I'm not mistaken."

"No, I meant to ask what was happening? Is there an orchestra?"

"I wouldn't call them an orchestra," he chuckled, "but they usually hire a local ensemble to play in the evenings for the dance."

"The dance?"

"Have you never been to the dance?" he asked with a surprised look.

"I-I guess I've never had reason to stay this late at the fair before," she said shyly.

"They have tables and benches set up around the dance floor," he replied and gestured towards the center of the fairgrounds, "I'll get us some lemonade and we can watch the young folk for awhile, if you like…" his voice trailed off when he looked down to where she had clasped his hand in both of hers.

"Could we?!" she asked excitedly and then became quiet when she followed his gazed down. "I'm sorry…"

He quickly covered her hands with his other before she could pull away. "Don't be…come." He tucked one of her small hands into the crook of his arm and led her in the direction of the music.

They stopped to pick up two glasses of lemonade and then turned to find a place to sit. Looking around, he spied Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, the butler and housekeeper up at the Abbey, sitting at a table by themselves. Catching Mrs. Hughes' eye, he moved in their direction.

"A place to sit seems to be at a premium this evening, would it be alright if Mrs. Crawley and I were to join you?"

Mr. Carson frowned and began to grumble when there was a bump to the table. He yelped and turned to glare at the woman by his side.

"Dr. Clarkson, Mrs. Crawley, please do sit down," said Mrs. Hughes quickly, ignoring the menacing look from the imperious butler.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes, I've not been to the fair's dance before, it's quite lovely…"

Soon the two women were nattering on about the village gossip as if placing wagers as to which of the young couples would be dancing together at next year's fair and which would not. The two men shrugged at each other and began to discuss the weather and the shipping forecast as they might have been wont to do had they run into each other at the Grantham Arms.

They had fallen into a companionable silence, watching the young couples as they tried out some of the newest dance fads when the soft strains of a waltz began. The housekeeper sat up a bit straighter and turned to look at her butler with a raised eyebrow. He smiled softly and nodded towards the dance floor. Rising from their chairs, he reached out and took her hand in his and led her out onto the small wooden floor that had been placed on the grassy knoll.

Mrs. Crawley watched the couple walk away before turning to the doctor with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile which he returned with a shrug and a shake of his head.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Mrs. Crawley." His heart warmed at the sound of her laughter, like chimes ringing on the light summer breeze.

"I should think after all these years that you could consider calling me Isobel."

Nodding his head in acknowledgement, "If you will call me Richard. I would offer to take you for a _turn_ but I am nothing if not clumsy as an ox on the dance floor."

"Perhaps you could let me be the judge of that?" she asked encouragingly.

"I take no responsibility for mashed toes, although I might be willing to provide treatment," he chuckled and rose from the table. His heart began to race a bit when she slipped her hand into his as they walked out onto the dance floor. Placing his other hand around her waist, he pulled her closer and caught the scent of lavender.

It had been a long while since a man had held her in his arms, a man other than her son or the other male members of the Crawley family for the occasional dance at one of the events held up at the Abbey. His hands felt strong and sure at her waist and holding her other hand aloft as they began to make their way around the dance floor. He had put her through a few simple turns when she wrinkled up her face in a comic grimace.

"You fibbed, Dr. Clarkson!"

"I thought we agreed that you would call me Richard?" he asked with mock indignation.

"That was when we were being honest with each other and I've just discovered that you fibbed to me!"

He liked it when she pretended to be upset with him, the lift to her chin and the sparkle in her eye, he couldn't help but throw back his head and laugh. "And what exactly have I _fibbed_ about?"

"You told me you couldn't dance," she said with a playful pout.

"Ah, I never said I couldn't dance, I only ever said that I was as clumsy as an ox on the dance floor! And you must admit that I am not nearly as smooth and polished as your Son or his Lordship!"

He may not be as smooth as the Lords and gentlemen that she danced with up at the Abbey but she had not enjoyed herself this much in ages and would be disappointed to see the evening come to an end.

"I am perfectly happy with an honest man and a strong hand," she said firmly, trying to look down her nose at him.

"Perhaps you will allow me to redeem myself with another dance this evening?" he asked just as the ensemble began to play a song that the youngsters could do one of the more modern dances to.

"Not to this, please?!" she exclaimed taking hold of his hand and pulling him back towards the table.

They spent the rest of the evening engaged in light conversation with Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, interspersed with another waltz and several slow foxtrots. The ensemble finally began to pack away their instruments and the foursome strolled towards the entrance to the fairgrounds and the road into the village. Upon reaching the village square, Mr. Carson bowed slightly and tipped his hat towards the good doctor.

"Mrs. Hughes and I will see you home, Mrs. Crawley."

"Um…I could see you home, if you like?" he stuttered and blushed when he looked to her for an answer. "It is on my way after all…"

Her heart unexpectedly began to soar when he offered to walk her home and it plummeted just as unexpectedly when he mentioned that it was on his way. It also did not make sense for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes to walk all that way _out of their way_ to see her home.

"Thank you…Dr. Clarkson," she said with a wry smile. "Thank you, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes…it has been a long time since I have had such an enjoyable evening and I appreciate your company."

They finished their goodnights and Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes turned to walk down the lane in the direction of Downton Abbey.

Looking back over her shoulder when she heard the sound of deep laughter behind her, she smiled when she spied the tall butler leaning down to speak quietly with his housekeeper and to plant a quick kiss at her temple. "I knew it!" she exclaimed with a wide grin.

"You knew what?" he laughed.

"I always suspected that there was something going on between those two!"

The doctor smiled to himself, he had known that there was more between the butler and the housekeeper when they came to him over twenty years ago to tell him as much. They presented their wedding certificate so that he would have proof that they could each answer for the other when it came to medical matters should the need arise as it had on more than one occasion with Mr. Carson during the war years and most recently with Mrs. Hughes' brush with cancer.

"Perhaps you will allow me to take you to dinner one evening at the Grantham Arms and we can discuss your suspicions in greater detail?"

She looked around and realized that they had arrived at the front porch of Crawley House and like it or not, her magical evening was about to come to an end. Suddenly shy, she said quietly, "I think I would like that very much…"

He wanted to see her again, quite soon if possible so he suggested, "If you'll stop by the hospital later this week, we can compare calendars…"

"You just want to get me back there so you can put me to work!"

"You wound me, Isobel!" he dropped back slightly and clutched at his heart for a moment. "It's not a bad idea though…" and his voice trailed off with a laugh when she reached out to bat his shoulder. "I'll call soon…I promise." He added the last when he saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face.

Reaching out slowly to give her time to pull away, he grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. Never taking his eyes off of hers, he saw a spark of desire light there as he grazed his lips across her knuckles and felt her fingers squeeze his.

"Good night, Richard," she whispered as he dropped her hand.

"Good night, Isobel."

He reached around her to push the door handle and watched as she slowly closed the door behind her. Turning, he sauntered off down her drive, whistling 'The Rose of Picardy' and reliving the feel of holding her in his arms. He never saw the curtain at the window beside the door lift so that she could watch his form as he walked away from her.

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_**A/N: There are two more chapters to this story and they will be posted between now and the New Year. Reviews are welcome, please!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: For several long moments, I thought perhaps I had actually created some fanon that was going to be canon…with just a slight reversal of dates…I had the day at the fair before their first dinner…and then Fellowes canon-ed my ship….AGAIN! **_

_**So what's a girl to do? Continue the story with in my own inimitable style and develop more fanon around JF's canon and see if he will pick up on the real storyline here! Hope ya'll continue to enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: Besides the fact that Fellowes is getting it all wrong…AGAIN! Unfortunately, they all still belong to him, including Richard and Isobel, but thankfully he created them in the first place so that I can continue to play with them! No copyright infringement intended.**_

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It was another warm and balmy evening as Richard sauntered down the lane. The scent of roses carried on the breeze and he looked up to see a climbing rose on the cobble wall that ran along the walk. Reaching out, he picked one of the delicate flowers and marveled at the creamy softness of the petals as he held the flower to his nose. Their soft pink color reminded him of her lips and he wondered for a moment if _they_ would be as soft. Smiling to himself, he slipped the flower into the lapel of his jacket and picked up his satchel before heading back towards the hospital.

He'd been called out to attend one of his cardiac patients and was on his way home when he found himself crossing the end of her drive. Pausing to look up at the house, he let his fingers wander over the rose as he thought of her. He had promised to call and make a dinner date last week but time had gotten away from him and he wondered if she would forgive him. He gave a deep sigh and promised himself that he would call her tomorrow.

Giving one last glance at the house, he saw her silhouette in the window and leaned against the gatepost thinking about his promise to take her out to dinner and wondered if she could be satisfied with the Grantham Arms or if he should take her to Ripon. It probably didn't matter much as he would find out in the morning that she wasn't speaking to him anymore. The sound of crunching gravel brought him out of his reverie and he looked up to find her standing there smiling at him.

"Forgive me?" he asked with a chagrined smile.

"Forgive you for what?"

"I haven't called."

"You've been busy," she said leaning in to smell the flower in his lapel. She knew she was being forward but felt emboldened to find him daydreaming at the end of her drive.

"That, I have been," he said with a chuckle. His heart raced for a moment as she leaned in and his nose caught the scent of lavender, reminding him of holding her in arms while they danced. "Perhaps my luck will hold long enough for you to join me for supper tonight? We could walk up to the Grantham Arms, if you like?"

"I would rather that you join _us_, we were just about to sit down to supper," she said and linked one arm through his.

"No, no, I wouldn't want to interrupt, I thought perhaps…"

"You thought perhaps what?" she asked as she tugged at his arm to encourage him to walk with her towards the house.

"I thought perhaps you were on your own tonight," he said as he walked reluctantly beside her.

"Matthew and Mary are here and you would be doing me a great favor if you would stay and keep me company," she said with a smirk, "I need someone to be on _my_ side in the arguments!"

"The arguments?" he asked looking at her skeptically. His frown quickly turned to a warm smile at the sound of her laughter.

"Arguments, discussions, it's all the same, isn't it?"

"You're sure? I don't want to push in…" his voice trailed off as they arrived at her front door.

"You're not pushing…I am insisting…" she tugged at his arm once more as the door swung open to reveal Matthew standing there. "Rich-…Dr. Clarkson will be joining us for supper."

Matthew stood looking nonplussed but opened the door wider so the pair could pass through.

After allowing Matthew to take his coat and hat and Isobel to set his satchel on the bench at the foot of the stairs, Richard followed her into the dining room and took the chair on her left, across from Matthew. The main course was served and all the proper compliments were paid to the hostess and to the cook and then they began to discuss issues regarding the village hospital. He wasn't certain how much he should actually be discussing with Matthew as the hospital was not one of the areas of the estate that Lord Grantham had actually turned over to Matthew and so the conversation throughout dinner was somewhat stilted until Mary grunted unexpectedly and rubbed her swollen belly.

"Are you alright!" exclaimed Matthew while Richard exchanged knowing smiles with Isobel.

"I'm fine," said Mary holding up her hands to placate him and urge him to sit down. "The baby moved." She waited expectantly with her hand hovering and then looked over at Matthew sympathetically.

"The baby never seems to be very active when I'm around," said Matthew ruefully.

Mary reached out and squeezed her husband's hand, "That just means that you have a calming effect on the baby."

"There may be more truth to that than you think," began Richard when he noticed that Lady Mary was rubbing her back. "Pardon me for being so forward, Mrs. Crawley, but perhaps we could have dessert in the sitting room? Lady Mary may be more comfortable in a cushioned chair where she can get her feet up."

"Please, don't make a fuss…"

"No, Dr. Clarkson is right, my dear," said Isobel with a small frown, "I should have noticed…"

Matthew helped his wife to her feet while Richard hovered over Isobel. Letting the younger couple go through first, he stood directly behind the tall blonde woman where he could admire the set of her shoulders and the soft skin at the curve of her neck. He started at the sound of her voice and realized that he had been daydreaming about how that skin would feel under his fingertips.

"Are you coming?" she asked when he had not followed her to the door.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a slightly embarrassed smile on his face. He wondered if his cheeks were as pink as they felt at that moment. He followed her out the door and across the hall thinking that this was something that he could get used to doing, spending his evenings in her presence.

He settled himself on the small settee beside her, their arms not quite touching but he was acutely aware of her sitting next to him. He watched as Matthew settled Mary into an armchair beside the fire and adjusted the pillows at her back.

"Thank you," said Lady Mary as she gazed lovingly at her husband for a moment, he still looking regretful.

Glancing over, he saw that she was feeling badly for her son and wondered for a moment if there was anything he could do for her. He suddenly had an idea and rose from the sofa. He turned and gave her a reassuring smile and said, "I'll only be a moment, there's something I'd like to get from my bag." He returned a few minutes later with his stethoscope in his hand and knelt down next to Lady Mary.

Looking up at Matthew he said, "Would you like to listen to the baby?" He let his breath out in a soft snort of laughter as Matthew looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "You can hear the baby's heartbeat…" his voice trailed off as he held out the end of his stethoscope to Lady Mary.

"If you could hold this under your blouse right about there," he pointed to a spot on her stomach and adjusted his earpieces. He listened for a moment and then motioned for Matthew to kneel down on the other side. Handing over the earpieces and guiding Mary's hand to adjust the bell on the stethoscope, he watched as Matthew's eyes widened in wonder as he listened to the sound of his child's heartbeat.

Rising to his feet he turned to take his seat next to her on the settee and saw that her eyes were moist though there was a smile on her face. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, Richard," she whispered and lay her head over on his shoulder for a moment. He tilted his head so that his cheek rested against the soft hair piled on top of her head and was disappointed when she pulled away a few seconds later.

The clock on the mantle chimed nine o'clock and he glanced up with a grimace. He took a deep breath and turned to address her, "I really must be getting back, I told the staff that I would stop for supper but that I would be back to do the final rounds at the hospital."

"I'll see you out," she said softly and rose to walk ahead of him as they left the room. She held his hat while he donned his coat and took up his bag. Walking out onto the front step she waited while he placed his hat on his head and turned to take her hand in his and lift it to his lips.

Feeling emboldened again and not wanting him to leave, she turned her hand and cupped his cheek to raise his head and draw him nearer. She saw the shadow of doubt in his eyes as he looked up at her and she gave him a silent questioning look back.

"Isobel," he whispered as he stepped closer to her, "there is a part of me that wants so desperately to court you…properly…"

"And there is a part of me that wants to be courted…but there is another part of me that desperately wants to know what it feels like to kiss you…"

He leaned in and placed one hand on her shoulder and was about to cover her lips with his own when they both heard the rattle of the door handle as someone opened the front door. He stepped back, allowing his hand to trail down her arm where his fingers hooked hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. Looking over her shoulder, he saw Matthew standing in the doorway.

"Dr. Clarkson," said Matthew as he stepped up beside his mother and held the stethoscope out in front of him. "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome," he said and reached out to take the proffered piece of equipment from him and tuck it into his medical bag. "I'll bid you both a good evening then," he said firmly and tipped his hat towards Isobel before turning to walk down the drive.

"Dr. Clarkson…Richard," she called out and took several steps in his direction before he turned around. "Friday evening? Seven o'clock?" She felt her heart skip a beat when he nodded and gave her a warm smile before turning to continue down the drive. It took a moment for her to realize that he was whistling 'The Rose of Picardy' as he went and she couldn't help smiling herself.

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_**A/N2: Reviews are always welcomed and encouraged! THANKS!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Since we got completely torpedoed in the Christmas Special…I'll try to meet Fellowes half way and marry canon with fanon! If you still have not had the opportunity to see S3 or the Christmas Special and do not want to read any spoilers, then you should stop here and return in February to finish! ;D**_

_**Disclaimer: I hope Fellowes is still trolling FFnet…as we all know that he IS…and takes a hint. In the meantime, I give thanks that he created such wonderful characters for the fandom to develop for him and to love immensely. No profits gained from writing this story except the support of my fandom friends and no copyright infringement is intended.**_

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She smoothed her apron down over her hips and checked the clock again…ten minutes after seven o'clock. _God, I hope he hasn't changed his mind!_ She felt a moment of panic as she bent to take the pot roast out of the oven to rest. Reaching for the pan on the shelf next to the stove, she slipped the plum tart into the oven.

He turned down his cuffs and reached for his cufflinks as he looked at the clock. _Damn! I'm going to be late, I hope she won't change her mind! _He pulled on his jacket and carefully placed his hamburg on his head before picking up the two packages, slipping the smaller of them into his pocket and heading out the door.

She was about to despair of seeing him at all when a strong rap sounded at the front door. She bustled into the hallway and was taken aback when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She paused a moment to wipe her hands on her apron and was trying to tame her curls where they had come loose when a second knock came. _The man is twenty minutes late and then he gets impatient waiting for five seconds_…she chuckled to herself and reached for the door handle.

He straightened his hat and smoothed his tie before reaching up to knock confidently on the door. Inside, he felt as if an entire flock of butterflies had taken up residence. He was beginning to despair that perhaps she was angry that he was late and was refusing to answer the door. He reached up to knock again and almost turned away when he heard the door handle rattle as it had that night when he had almost kissed her.

The door opened and he saw her bright eyes and red cheeks and her hair loosened and curling around her ears and brow, she looked…beautiful.

She opened the door to find him standing slack jawed with a bouquet of flowers about to tip from his hands.

"Are those for me?" she asked and reached out to take the wildflowers before they toppled to the ground.

"Yes, y-you look…" he stuttered.

"I look a fright, now come in and let me take your hat," she replied with a blush which he found even more endearing.

He handed her his hat and waited until she had turned back to face him. He had been dreaming of a moment such as this, alone with her where he could take her into his arms and hold her close, pressing his lips to hers as she had said that she desired…

"Richard...Richard?" she repeated his name as he gazed past her, lost in some thought or another.

"I'm sorry, I was thinking to myself that you don't look a fright at all, that you look…lovely…" his voice trailed off softly when her eyes began to sparkle and the blush crept up to darken her cheeks even more.

"Yes, well, your supper's growing cold as we stand here so come along!" she exclaimed turning him towards the dining room and nudging him with both hands at the small of his back.

Her boldness took him by surprise but he was finding that he didn't mind in the least. He moved to take the chair that he'd sat in several nights ago and noticed the bottle of wine sitting on the sideboard.

"Would you like for me to open the wine?"

"That would help immensely," she said as she walked into the kitchen. She busied herself steaming the asparagus and was startled to hear his voice behind her as she reached into the cupboard above her head for the dinner plates.

"Allow me," he said and stepped up beside her to easily grasp the heavy china and set it on the trestle table behind her. "I checked the sideboard but couldn't find a corkscrew, would there be one in here?"

"I wonder where Matthew put it?" she murmured to herself. "With no cook or housekeeper, I'm still finding my way around a bit but if there is a corkscrew in the kitchen, it would be over in one of those drawers over there," she said pointing to a dish cupboard tucked into the corner of the room.

He leaned back against the cupboard to watch when he came up empty handed. He smiled to himself as she grated some cheese to sprinkle on top of the potatoes before she set them back into the oven and reached to take the asparagus off the stove. He saw the roast sitting to the side and walked over to pick up the carving knife.

The sound of a knife running along the sharpening steel caught her attention and she glanced over to see Richard eyeing the roast as if it were a patient. "You're carving a pot roast, not performing surgery!" she said with a smirk.

"I have been known to carve a roast or two in my day, woman," he grinned at her turning the roast several times before deciding where to make the first incision. They worked in unison for several minutes, she arranging the side dishes and then holding the plates while he carved the roast and served up several tender pieces for each of them.

"Oh, I need to take the tart out of the oven! Would you take these to the table and I'll be right out?" she asked as she handed him their dinner plates.

She was surprised to find him wrestling with the wine bottle when she finally sat down at the table beside him. "You didn't find the corkscrew?" He shook his head with a frown that quickly turned into a triumphant grin as he pried his penknife loose and brought the cork out with it.

"Thought the bloody thing…pardon me, I thought the cork would never come loose," he said apologetically.

"It would have been easier if you'd been able to find the _bloody_ corkscrew," she said nonchalantly and then giggled at the surprised look on his face. He laughed and handed her a glass before pouring his own and digging into his meal.

"This is delicious, Isobel," he said earnestly and took another large bite of the pot roast.

"I'm glad you like it."

"You mentioned coming back to the hospital the other evening…have you been thinking about it?" he asked casually.

"I have considered it since so much of my time will likely be spent here in Downton Village, when the baby comes."

"I would love to have you back as Head of Nursing if you wouldn't object."

"Well, there would have to be some stipulations…" she left the sentence hanging and was glad when he assured her that he was certain they could work something out.

They chatted on about the hospital and some of the issues where he could use her assistance and soon they had finished dinner and leaned back in their chairs.

"I'll go and get the dessert, shall I?" she asked rising and gathering the plates and walking out to the kitchen.

"None for me at the moment," he called out and followed her with the remaining dishes. "I couldn't eat another bite."

He saw her reaching high over her head to place a heavy serving dish into the cupboard and he rushed to help when it started to slip from her grasp. He stepped up behind her and brushed his hands over hers to take hold of the dish and raise it up onto the shelf. She bumped against his chest when she came down off her tiptoes and he placed his hands on top of her shoulders to steady her. Her head brushed against his chin and his eyes fluttered closed as the scent of lavender that was so uniquely her, drifted under his nose. He resisted the urge to pull her back against his chest and kiss the side of her neck, choosing instead to remain the gentleman and take a step away from her when he was certain she was steady on her feet.

"I'll go through and pour us a brandy?" he asked in a husky whisper and couldn't help but smile when he felt her take a trembling breath.

The feel of his hands on her shoulders and the sound of his voice in her ear sent shivers up and down her spine. _It's been a long time since anyone's made you feel this way, old girl!_ She could only nod in response and lament the loss of his touch when he pulled away.

When she finally finished in the kitchen and joined him in the sitting room, she was glad to see that he had started a fire in the fireplace, removed his jacket and sat comfortably with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"No! Don't get up on my account!" she shushed him when he apologized and started to rise. "I'm glad that you're able to make yourself comfortable." She moved to take a seat beside him on the sofa and discovered a small package tied with a gold cord. She gave him a puzzled look and raised an eyebrow at him in question.

"You'll have to open it."

She tried to contain her excitement as she pulled on the loose end of the cord and lifted the lid on the box. Inside she found three truffles, each with a different combination of chocolate and accents. "They're beautiful Richard, where did you get them?" she asked with a warm smile.

"There's a small confectionary in Ripon that I discovered one afternoon," he began with an embarrassed smile, "but you don't want to hear that story."

"Of course I do, tell me!" she exclaimed. Finding her eyes warm and alight, he found himself unable to deny her request.

"I had just moved to the village and was getting to know my way around when I got lost and stumbled upon the shop. The shopkeeper was so kind in giving me directions back to the main road that I felt the need to repay him and purchased several of the truffles…turns out they were very good and I've been going back whenever I have need of a gift…or to satisfy my own sweet tooth," he admitted with chagrin.

"Which one shall I try?" she asked her eyes dancing with excitement.

"That's up to you."

"Which is your favorite?"

"Perhaps I did not choose my favorite this time."

She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips before saying, "I think you would want to know if I had the same tastes as you did, I think your favorite is in this box."

He laughed and took the box from her. "You're right, my favorite is in here but I'll not tell you which one it is. Close your eyes and I'll give you a bite and you can tell me if you like it."

She squinted at him again, trying to decide whether she could trust him or not and giggled when he shrugged his shoulders and abandoned the box of chocolates between them. "Alright," she said with mock exasperation and closed her eyes.

Closing her eyes seemed to heighten her other senses and set her nerves on edge. She could hear the rustle as he reached into the box and removed one of the truffles. Her skin began to tingle when she felt his arm slide along the sofa behind her shoulders as he leaned towards her. She giggled when she felt his warm breath brush along her cheek and her pulse began to race as she waited with her lips slightly parted for him to feed her the truffle.

Closing her eyes allowed him to look at her more closely, to watch the firelight glint off the silver and gold strands of her hair. Her skin looked so soft and creamy in the dying light and her lips slightly parted were so inviting. He found himself wanting to kiss her instead of feeding her but he had agreed and so he held the truffle wrapped in white chocolate with a thin strip of raspberry liqueur to her mouth and watched as her tongue flicked out against it and her small pearly teeth bit down through the firm outer layer. The soft inner layer gave way and her tongue smoothed it up to the roof of her mouth as she groaned in ecstasy at the rich flavor and smooth texture.

The truffle was heavenly and if this was his favorite, she would be more than glad to share such delights with him. Opening her eyes, she found his face close to hers, watching as she smoothed the truffle around in her mouth. When his eyes finally rose to meet hers, she found herself staring into two ice blue pools of desire. His pupils darkened and grew wide in a mirror image of what she knew to be true for her own eyes. Reaching up, she smoothed her hand over his cheek and drew him towards her.

His skin was aflame where she touched his face and when he saw the desire that was a reflection of his own, he followed her lead and pressed his lips to hers. Her kiss was gentle at first, sweet and sensuous but it soon grew impatient and demanding. He felt her tongue flick out to taste his lower lip as she had the truffle and his response was immediate. His tongue followed hers back and his head began to swim as her arms slipped around his neck and pulled him to her.

She tasted of warm brandy and sweet chocolate and all of his senses swung on a single pivot of pleasure for several long minutes until a familiar sound began to make its way into his consciousness. He felt her pull back and lifted his head to look down at her.

"Bloody telephone," he muttered as he turned and helped her to sit up so that she could go and answer the blasted thing.

She returned a moment later and motioned for him to join her, "It's for you, it's the hospital."

Heaving a deep sigh, he rose from the sofa and followed her into her office and picked up the earpiece, "Dr. Clarkson!" He listened intently and then turned to look at her. "We'll be right there." Setting down the telephone, he turned and took her by the shoulders and pushed her to sit down in her deskchair.

"What is it?" she asked seeing the troubled look on his face. "Richard….tell me…" she demanded as she became more agitated by his silence. He knelt down in front of her and took both of her hands in his before speaking.

"Isobel…there's been an accident…it seems that Matthew's motorcar ran off the road and overturned and he's been injured." He waited for the news to sink in but knew that she was going into shock when she laughed and tried to pry her hands free.

"No, that's silly! Matthew is up at the Abbey with Mary, I'm certain of it…whoever made the report must be confused…" her voice trailed off as her eyes widened and she began to breathe erratically.

"Isobel…listen to me…listen to the sound of my voice….breathe deeply, in and out, that's good. Now, let's go to the hospital and we can straighten the whole thing out." He was fairly certain that the constable had his facts straight but they needed to get to there as soon as possible and so he soothed her and gathered her into his arms and walked her towards the front door.

They arrived at the hospital and found that the patient had already been delivered to the surgery and so he whisked her through the ward, handing their coats to the nurse on their way by. They reached the surgical rooms and found his Lordship standing with Lady Cora holding Lady Mary. Isobel stiffened in his arms and tried to back away, eyes wide and shaking her head in an attempt to prevent the truth from sinking in.

"No…" she whispered hoarsely and fainted into his arms. He turned her over to one of the nurses and entered the surgery to see what could be done for the lad.

When he emerged to notify the family that it had been too late by the time they had gotten the young man to the hospital, he found Lord Grantham was the only one remaining to receive the news. He informed the doctor that his wife and daughter had gone up to sit with Isobel and that he would go up and break the news to them himself.

Richard nodded and watched as the Earl trudged down the hallway in the direction of the ward. He would have liked to be with Isobel when she received the news but it would not have been proper since no one knew that they were involved.

_Involved! Now you're imagining things, old man. You've shared a few dinners and you've managed to steal a first kiss…that does not a relationship make. _

He shook his head and hurried back into the surgery, if he was quick about it, he could see her home and sit with her tonight. Try as he might, when he arrived on the ward, he was informed that the Crawleys had taken Isobel up to the Abbey so that she would not have to be alone that night. He gave a grim nod and walked slowly back to his office. He wouldn't sleep tonight anyway so he might as well catch up on his paperwork.

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_**A/N2: I would like to confirm that in this story, Lady Mary is still pregnant and has not delivered the new heir and although I am trying to bring some canon elements into the story, it will remain AU on many counts. **_

_**Reviews are immensely welcomed…THANKS!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Happy New Year 2013 everyone! I wanted to say thanks to everyone who has supported this story and any others that I have worked on. Your support, your messages and your reviews have meant a lot to me this past year! And thanks to all the new followers and story alerts!**_

_**Disclaimer: Fellowes owns 'em, I just borrow 'em! No copyright infringement is intended.**_

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He stood once more at the gatepost, staring down the drive at Crawley House, _her_ house, but he was no longer the ardent suitor. Today, he would be seeing her as the village doctor in his professional capacity. He hadn't seen her since the night that Matthew died. He'd caught a glimpse of her across the church during the funeral but the family had closed ranks around her, and Lady Mary, and he'd not gotten the chance to speak with her.

He had hoped to see her when he was called to the Abbey last week for Lady Mary's early labor pains. He'd asked after her and been told that she'd moved back to Crawley House two weeks ago. He could kick himself that he'd not kept in closer contact with her in the weeks since the funeral and now, with the task that he had been dealt, it was unlikely that he'd ever have that chance again.

He had been surprised when, after examining Lady Mary and reassuring the family that the Braxton-Hicks pains were normal and nothing to worry about, he heard the voice of the Dowager Countess calling softly to him from the library on his way by. Had the house not been so quiet, he might have missed the sound altogether.

"_Dr. Clarkson?" came the soft voice on his right, "Do you have a moment?" _

_Richard turned and saw the Dowager Countess' head peering around the great oak door to the library as if checking to see that they were alone. When she was certain that no one would see, she motioned for him to follow her with a single, commanding wave of her hand as she turned her back and walked deeper into the library. Looking reflexively over his own shoulder in response, he followed her._

_He stood quietly, just inside the door until she glared at him and lifted her chin slightly. He wore a puzzled frown until he figured out that she wanted for him to close the door. Turning back into the room, he found her wobbling slightly as she tried to perch on the edge of his Lordship's large swivel deskchair. He tried desperately to keep from laughing aloud and didn't have to fake the cough as he choked back a snort. She turned an imperious eyebrow on him when she'd finally found her sea legs and settled into the chair. Withered by her glare, his smirk faded quickly and he set his bag down on the floor with a small sigh. _

"_How can I help you, your Ladyship?"_

"_I was wondering how Mrs. Crawley was doing, the poor dear?" she tutted with exaggerated innocence. _

"_I'm sorry, your Ladyship, but I've no idea how Mrs. Crawley is doing."_

"_Oh?" she said with very wide eyes, "I rather thought that the two of you…"_

_He frowned for a moment, pondering whether or not to say anything and realized that there was nothing to tell. There had never been anything more than friendship between them and now it would seem that was gone as well. _

"_I don't know what you've heard, your Ladyship, but I have only a professional relationship with Mrs. Crawley, nothing more."_

"_More's the pity, Dr. Clarkson."_

"_Why would you say that?" he asked when he saw a look of genuine concern on her face. _

"_She seemed to withdraw into herself while she was here after Matthew's… __**accident**__…she was suffering from night terrors and began to walk the house at all hours. By the time she returned to Crawley House, she had stopped eating and sleeping and…" her voice trailed off. She sat silently for a moment as if considering what she was about to say. _

"…_**and**__, your Ladyship?" he asked with a catch in his voice._

"_And I'm not sure why I'm even bothering," she said firmly, squaring her shoulders and shaking her head. "She's always been a bit of a thorn in my side…but even the dull ache of a thorn can be missed when it is no longer there." _

_Richard nodded in agreement but remained silent. He was wondering why he had not seen her at church on Sundays even when the rest of the Crawleys had returned and now he had his answer. "Well, if there's nothing more, your Ladyship…"_

"_Nothing more? Do you not think that someone ought to drop in and check on her?"_

"_I apologize, but it would be improper for me to…."_

"_Improper!" she interrupted him, "Are you not the village doctor? Who better to call in and assess her state of being?" _

_He gaped at her for a moment and then realized that she was right, had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have thought twice about it. _

"_Yes, ma'am," he said quietly and reached for his bag, "I'll call on her first thing in the morning after my rounds at the hospital." _

He had picked up the telephone a dozen times in an attempt to contact her and set up an appointment. He'd only ever let it ring through once or twice when he'd been able to override the uncertain feeling of guilt but then she never answered and he finally allowed the operator to break the connection. It had been another three days since he'd made the promise to look in on her but still, he argued with himself, his thoughts confused and angry.

_I cannot break into her house or force her to return to the Abbey. What would her Ladyship have me do? I cannot bring her son back, I can barely contemplate speaking with her let alone seeing her…you've waited like a coward for her to come to you…no more, old man! _

And so, here he stood, working up the courage to knock on her door. Glancing up, a movement behind the curtains caught his eye, _at least she's not hidden away or taken to her bed. _Taking a deep breath, he picked up his medical bag and marched up to the front door. He pulled on his waistcoat and smoothed down his mustache before gathering himself and knocking firmly on the door. He stood and waited and after several long minutes, he knocked again. Determined not to be put off and face the Dowager Countess without having given it a third try, he had just raised his fist to pound on the door when it opened slowly before him.

He found himself rather relieved when the light finally began to spill into the house and showed her standing before him. His logical mind began to catalog signs and symptoms while his heart ached to see her in such a state.

Her hair and skin were rather dull though both were clean and her hair was pulled back off of her face albeit into a severe twist at the back of her head, no soft waves or loose curls to catch his eye. She wore no powder or rouge which only caused the dark circles under her eyes to stand out in stark contrast to her ashen complexion. Her eyes were empty and lifeless, gone was the spark and desire that she'd had for him all those nights ago when he'd sat in her sitting room feeding her truffles.

She wore one of her old blouses, a dark maroon affair with a high collar and old fashioned mutton sleeves. He remembered when she arrived in Downton almost ten years ago. She wore it when she first started working at the hospital and he admired the way that it brought out the gold in her hair and the pink in her cheeks. Although she'd not always stayed up with the fashions, whatever she wore always hugged her curves in all the right places. Today, her blouse and skirt seemed to hang on her and he could tell that she had lost some weight but she did not look emaciated as he had first feared based on the Dowager Countess' testimony. She was eating _something_, even if she wasn't sleeping and she was keeping her person clean and tidy, that was a start.

-o O o-

She was walking across the sitting room to check the kettle in the kitchen when she happened to glance out the window. He stood at the gatepost as he had that night when she'd invited him in to have dinner with Mary and... "Matthew…" she whispered aloud to the empty room. The sound of water droplets sputtering on the stovetop caught her attention and she moved on through to the kitchen to take the kettle off the fire. She wet the tea and stood in front of the coldbox arguing with herself that she needed to eat something, whether she was hungry or not when she heard the knock on the front door.

Her brow creased as her clouded mind worked out who the caller might be and in a moment of clarity realized it could only be _him_. Right now, there was only one person she wanted to see walk through that door and it _wasn't_ Dr. Clarkson. She chose to ignore the knocking on her door and busied herself with pulling things from the coldbox and putting them back in until she heard him rap a second time. _No, you won't be ignored, will you Dr. Clarkson…._

-o O o-

She pulled opened the front door and blinked slightly against the morning sunlight. She noticed his hand dart up and sweep his hat off of his head making his hair glow like a halo as it was lit from behind. A momentary pain sliced through her heart as she fought the urge to throw herself into his arms to be held and comforted but that would mean admitting that Matthew would never be coming back and she wasn't quite ready to do that. Besides, she wasn't certain that Richard…_Dr. Clarkson_…would want that task. He hadn't come to the Abbey to see her nor had he attended Matthew's funeral….he hadn't even come by Crawley House to check on her…

"Isobel?" He noticed the shake of her head as if to clear the cobwebs but she still would not look directly at him.

"Dr. Clarkson, may I help you?" she responded flatly.

"How are y-y…I-I'm here to ….Isobel…um, Mrs. Crawley…" he stuttered to a stop. Her lack of enthusiasm and the use of his formal title had pulled the rug out from under him a bit. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't come."

"Pardon?" he asked in confusion.

"You didn't even come to M-m-matthew's funeral…" It took her several tries until she was finally able to speak his name aloud to someone else.

"Oh, but I did!" he exclaimed quietly, "I was there, I tried to get to you but…they whisked you and Lady Mary off before I could get close enough to get your atten…" His voice trailed off when he looked up from where he'd been staring at the toes of his shoes in remorse and found her frowning at him.

"You didn't come to see me, you didn't even come to check up on me…"

"I wasn't invited to the Abbey and I only found out last week when you'd returned to Crawley House. Isobel, please believe me," he said desperately and reached out to clasp her hands in his, "I would have been here instantly, if I had known." It tore at his heart but he didn't resist when he felt her pull away from him. In his mind, he knew that there had been nothing he could have done for Matthew but in his heart, he felt as though he should have been there for her, cared for her, comforted her…who was he now, to try and insist that she see him or speak to him.

She shook her head as if in a daze, trying to make sense of what he was saying. They could both hear the sound of the telephone as it began to ring. "Cora," she mumbled to herself and looked down the hallway. "I have to go now." She continued to stare in the direction of her office as she closed the door in his face.

He stood on the steps for a long while, hoping that she would return. He even went so far as to raise his hand to knock softly but ended up pressing it against the smooth wooden panel in an effort to convey his feelings and desire to comfort and protect her. Taking a deep breath, he turned and was walking down the drive when he heard the now familiar rattle of the door handle and turned to find her white-faced and clutching the edge of the door. He dropped his bag on the drive and ran back to her.

"Isobel! What's the matter?"

"The telephone…it's for you….it's the hospital…"

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_**A/N2: Your reviews are very much welcomed and hope you will take a minute to drop me a note! THANKS!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: That darned telephone….nothing but interruptions and trouble! So let's see what happens next?**_

_**Special shout out to my beta…and she knows why…her thoughts really did make for a much better chapter!**_

_**Disclaimer: All belong to J. Fellowes, Carnival and ITV – I've borrowed them so that I could put a plot bunny to rest – no copyright infringement intended!**_

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"Mrs. Crawley," he said gently as he reached out to pry her hands from where they held a death grip on the edge of the wooden door. She stood stiffly and refused to look at him, using soft fingers, he tried to turn her face towards him, "Isobel?"

"Richard…please," she finally croaked out, "…Mary…"

It finally dawned on him that the last time they were in this position, the phone call had been about Matthew. He slipped one arm around her shoulders and tried to draw her with him down the hallway but she shook her head adamantly and stood her ground.

"Mary is fine, the baby is fine, she's having some false labor pains," said Richard soothingly.

"Don't patronize me, Richard!" she exclaimed with a sudden flash of anger in her eyes.

He wasn't sure that he would want to see her anger at full sail but he was glad to see some spark of emotion. _So you are still in there, my dear!_

"After what happened with Sybil, the family is a bit panicky. I examined her a few days ago and everything is fine." He tried again and this time was successful in raising her chin so that he could look into her eyes. He was glad to see the tumble of conflicting emotions, even when she pulled away from him. "It's her first baby and you know how notorious they are for being late to their own births," he chuckled in an effort to lighten the air, "Even if she has gone into labor, it will be _hours_ yet before the baby arrives."

"You can't know that," she said firmly, "please speak to them, the hospital is still waiting…"

"Alright," he nodded and started down the hallway, "Come through and we can listen together." He picked up the pieces of the telephone and turned to face the room as he said, "Dr. Clarkson!" He was disappointed to find himself alone. "Yes…" he listened intently before replying, "Yes, that's good…make her comfortable and I'll be there as soon as I can."

He headed out into the hallway to find her standing beside the open door with his medical bag in her hands. She had pinned her hat on top of her head and put her coat on though the buttons were amiss.

"I'm coming with you," she said with a firm set to her jaw.

He suspected there would be no talking her out of it and tried to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up at the determined look on her face.

"I need to go back to the hospital to get my motorcar, I'll be back to pick you up…"

"No, I'm coming with you now," she interrupted with a firm shake of her head.

"Fair enough," he said and reached out to take his bag from her. Taking hold of her elbow, he walked her out the door and down the drive. He nodded to their neighbors and acquaintances as they walked down the village streets toward the hospital. He noticed that she would flinch and turn towards him whenever someone spoke directly to her or offered their condolences. He covered her hand on his arm and then nodded and offered his thanks for their concern.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, he walked over to the motorcar and placed his satchel in the boot. When he straightened and moved to open the rear door, he found her sitting ramrod straight in the front seat. He closed the passenger door behind her and walked to the front of the car to turn the crank and once the motor was running smoothly, he climbed in next to her.

He saw the confused look on her face and noticed the moment that she seemed to come to some sort of decision and scooted over on the bench seat so that she was pressed against his side. He wondered for a moment if she was really ready for this or would she breakdown at some point and become more of a hindrance than a help. He decided that it didn't matter, he would not relegate her to anything less than his able bodied nurse unless he had to and then he knew he could count on his Lordship and Mr. Carson to assist him in clearing the room…but only if needed. He gently put the car in gear so as not to jostle her with his movements and pulled the motorcar out onto the street.

They arrived at the Abbey about twenty minutes later and pulled up to the front of the stone building. She immediately opened the door on her side of the car and marched up to the house and began to push on the monstrously heavy oak door. When it finally began to move, she pushed her way past Mr. Carson who turned to look at the doctor in surprise. Richard rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders and followed her up the stairs.

-o O o-

After examining the patient and determining that her pains were indeed contractions and that serious labor was imminent, he set Nurse Crawley to the task of preparing the room for delivery of the newest member of the Crawley family. Knowing that full labor could still be several hours away, he allowed Lady Mary's mother and sister to remain. He watched as Isobel went about her tasks with a determined efficiency, her posture as rigid as the expression on her face.

Going through the preparations gave her mind something to focus on and counting out the linens and laying out the doctor's tools kept her hands from fidgeting. She was laying out the scales for weighing and measuring the baby later when she heard a panicked yelp from the bed. Both she and Richard arrived at the same time to find Mary lifting the covers to peer beneath.

Looking bewildered she looked up at her mother with wide eyes and said, "I didn't mean to…"

"Didn't mean to what, my dear?" asked Lady Cora as she reached out to wipe away the stray tear that was trailing down her daughter's cheek.

"I think…I think I've just wet the bed!" she exclaimed with embarrassment and hung her head like a schoolgirl as her mother laughed and hugged her around the shoulders.

"Not to worry, Lady Mary," said Dr. Clarkson warmly, "the baby has been…enclosed in a fluid sack, it is completely normal for the sack to break and the fluid to rush out, that means it won't be long before your wee one makes an appearance."

He turned to find Isobel standing facing the side table away from the bed. When he stood beside her, he noticed that her eyes were closed and she was taking deep breaths. He suspected that she was biting her lower lip to keep from crying.

"Nurse Crawley," he commanded and waited for Isobel to open her eyes to look at him before softening his expression and speaking directly to her so that the others wouldn't hear. "Will you be alright?"

"I'm fine," she snapped and looked around the room, "I there something wrong? Something I missed?"

"No…no…everything is as it should be. It's just that…it could get rather…emotional…" his voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words.

"I'm a professional, Dr. Clarkson, there's no need to worry! I was just getting the fresh linens."

"Right, then I think I'll go downstairs and inform his Lordship." He wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand but he knew that she would not have wanted that, especially in front of the other women and then there was the fact that he had lost that right the night that Matthew died.

-o O o-

Isobel gathered the soiled linens from the bed and stepped into the hallway closing the door behind her. She looked up and down the hall hoping to see Mrs. Hughes or one of the housemaids but no such luck. Then she noticed a small square door in the wall near where she was standing and pulled it open to find what appeared to be a laundry chute. She pushed the linen through the opening and closed the door before taking a deep breath when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"I was informed that my Granddaughter was to have the baby soon," came the voice of Lady Violet, "Where is she? Carson said he thought he heard her voice from the stairwell."

"She is in her room resting after a nice long walk of the halls so Mr. Carson may very well have heard her voice a short while ago" she said over her shoulder.

"Oh!" the Dowager Countess said rolling her eyes, "In my day, a Lady was confined to her bed to suffer…_quietly_."

"I should think it lucky for Mary that Dr. Clarkson is of a mind that a _Lady_ should do what makes her comfortable until she _must_ be confined to the bed."

"And I suppose you agree with the doctor, Mrs. Crawley?" she asked coyly.

"As a matter of fact I do, Lady Grantham. Women have been having babies on the farms and in the fields for generations, that bit of exercise likely did her a world of good!"

"Yes, well, then I shall go in and see for myself," said Lady Violet briskly. To her, Mrs. Crawley still seemed a bit out of sorts and Violet didn't want to push her too far but she was glad to see some hope on the horizon that the woman might be returning to her usual self.

"After you," said Isobel and held her hand towards the bedroom door just as Dr. Clarkson appeared at the head of the stairs. He arched an eyebrow at her and couldn't hold back the smile when she rolled her eyes in response and followed the Dowager Countess into the room.

Another hour had passed when the pains began to be almost unbearable and the doctor exchanged a knowing look with Lady Cora. "I think we're getting close," said Dr. Clarkson when he had finished listening to her blood pressure once again. "It is time for us to prepare the patient," he said to indicate that the others would need to leave the room.

Lady Edith leaned over and kissed her sister on the cheek while their mother squeezed her hand and gave her older daughter a wry smile. "Everything is going to be alright, you'll see," she said a bit too brightly as memories of having this same conversation with Sybil floated through her mind.

"I think I shall go down to the sitting room to wait with Robert and Edith," said Lady Grantham shuddering at the thought of childbirth. She stopped beside the bed on her way out and reached out lay one hand on her granddaughter's shoulder, "It will be worth it, every moment!"

"Thank you, Grandmama," grunted Lady Mary as another strong contraction took hold.

-o O o-

It was still another hour before the baby made an appearance but soon the room was filled with the squalls of a newborn.

"It's a boy!" exclaimed the doctor knowing the news would be welcome. "If you'll hold the wee laddie for me Nurse Crawley….Mrs. Crawley?" He looked up to find her staring blankly at the babe in his hands. "Isobel? If you'll hold him, I'll cut the cord," he said gently, still holding the baby out to her.

"Yes…yes, I'm sorry, Dr. Clarkson," she said with a shake of her head. She had a towel draped across her hands to receive the infant and when the doctor had finished the task of separating mother from child, she took the baby over to the side table and began to clean him up.

"Angh! Dr. Clarkson!" cried Mary when the contractions seemed to continue.

"You have a bit more work to do, my dear," said the doctor calmly, "A few more good pushes and it will all be over with!" When the final stages of her labor were complete, Richard pulled the soiled linens off the bed and settled Lady Mary comfortably amongst the pillows. He sat beside her and bathed her face and hands with a cool clean flannel as they listened to the sounds of Isobel washing and tending to the infant behind him.

Lady Mary smiled through a veil of tears and shook her head, "I don't know what's wrong with me, I can't seem to stop crying!"

"Perfectly normal, your Ladyship," said Richard with a reassuring smile. "It is a very exhausting and emotional experience, would you like for me to send for your mother?"

They both turned when they heard a knock on the door and watched as it slowly opened a crack so that Lady Cora could call out, "May I come in?"

Lady Mary looked to Richard for confirmation before answering, "Yes and Grandmama too!" Rising from the bed, he went over to check Isobel's progress with the baby.

She had bundled him tightly into several small blankets to keep him warm and was rocking him gently against her shoulder. The tears had started to fall not long after she'd first held him in her arms and they were still leaving tracks on her cheeks though there was now a warm light in her eyes instead of the cold emptiness that had been there earlier.

Lady Mary exchanged a small smile with her mother as they watched Isobel and Dr. Clarkson with the baby.

"I'd like to listen to the lad's heart and lungs," he said quietly. She nodded and held the baby out between them with one hand under his bottom and one hand cradling his head. Richard pulled slightly on the bundling to loosen it across the baby's chest and slid the bell of his stethoscope underneath. His other hand came up beneath the baby to hold him firmly and ended up cupping her hand between. He was almost as startled as she was at the contact and when his eyes darted to hers, he found them fixed to the front of his shirt but the taut lines around them had softened and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards slightly.

"That's a good lad," he murmured to the baby, "Strong and steady wins the race!" He removed the stethoscope from the bundling but before he released the baby completely, he managed to get Isobel's attention by squeezing the hand he held trapped beneath his and was rewarded with a shy smile. "All weighed and measured?"

"Ahem, are you certain that all is…_well_…doctor?" asked Lady Violet with a concerned frown.

If she was meaning to cast aspersions on Mrs. Crawley's abilities, he was having none of it. This was the brightest and most engaged that he had seen her since that awful night at the hospital and he wasn't about to spoil this for her, there would be ample opportunity to check the numbers in the morning if he had any doubts.

"I am quite certain…."

"Perhaps it would be better if you were to double check? It would put everyone's mind at ease…including mine," she said with a pointed look in Lady Violet's direction.

He nodded in relief for as much as he trusted Isobel's skills and abilities, it would have bothered him _not_ to have checked the baby himself for any obvious problems before turning him over to his mother. He watched as she lay the baby down on the table and proceeded to loosen the bundling.

"Whoa! There's nothing wrong with the lad's kidneys!" exclaimed the doctor as a stream of urine arced across the table to catch him on the wrist when she slipped his tiny nappie off. Reaching for a flannel to dry his arm, he turned a baleful eye on her when he heard her amused giggle.

"A fine healthy boy in that department," she said with a wistful smile, "His father had good aim too." Taking a deep breath, she held the baby while the doctor smoothed his hands over the head to check the soft spot, working his way down the neck and across the tops of the shoulders. When he turned to check the ears, her finger was pressed against the baby's cheek and he immediately began to root around until he'd found her fingertip and sucked it into his mouth. She gave an affirmative nod to the question in the doctor's eyes, he had a normal palate and tongue and would have no trouble breathing, feeding or speaking, when he was old enough.

The doctor continued to check arms and hands, legs and feet, and they both smiled as they watched the tiny toes spread apart when a firm finger was run down the center of his foot. He caught her eye and was please when she gave him a soft smile. He wasn't sure what was happening between them but working together seemed to be bringing her back to herself and for that, he was grateful.

He flipped the baby over onto his forearm to smooth his hand down the baby's spine and looked up at her sudden intake of breath.

"What's the matter?" asked Lady Mary fretfully from the bed, "Is something wrong with him?"

"Nothing, he's fine, just fine," said Isobel with a small laugh, "I hadn't noticed it before but he…he has his father's _bottom_, the same dimple in his left cheek." She looked over at Lady Mary, who had the good grace to blush when thinking of her husband's anatomy, before saying, "Matthew got it from his father."

"Well, that was more than I needed to know," sniffed Lady Violet disdainfully. "The important thing is does he have ten fingers and ten toes and everything he's supposed to have in all the right places?"

Richard handed the baby back to her before turning to speak to the Dowager Countess, "Rest assured, your Ladyship, he's a fine, strong, healthy boy and he has everything he needs for the moment."

Isobel had finished bundling the baby back into his blankets as he began to fuss in earnest. She scooped him off the table to hold him out in front to face her, smiling and cooing as she walked over to the bed to place the infant in his mother's arms, "If he's anything like his father, he's going to be hungry and will want to be fed immediately!" Under the watchful eye of Lady Cora, she helped Mary to position the baby and hold him gently when he latched on to her nipple while Lady Violet wrinkled her nose and turned to look out the window instead.

Richard finished packing up all of his tools and equipment and set his medical bag down near the door. Turning towards the bed he was taken with the sight of four generations of Crawleys huddled together on and around the bed, all smiles and soft voices as they found a way to reach out to each other to begin healing from their losses. Rather than disturb them, he left quietly and went downstairs to share the good news with the rest of the family.

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_**A/N: Just one more chapter to go! Hope you enjoyed this installment and that you'll take a moment to drop me a note to let me know! THANKS!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: I thought this was the epilogue but apparently I had a bit more story to tell than I thought I did…so there will be one more chapter after this one! I have to give a shout out to my beta, Onesimus, for helping keep me in touch with myself and my characters. **_

_**Disclaimer: Fellowes still owns them and although he's torpedoed this ship in Series 3, I have high hopes for a reconciliation in Series 4. In the meantime, I am borrowing them from him and making up my own outcome. No copyright infringement is intended.**_

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Richard drove up the long drive, half dreading what he would find the next morning. He'd left the women in a state of euphoria after the birth of the babe but he knew that it would not last long and wondered what state _she_ would be in when he arrived.

He parked around the back of the house and let himself in through the servant's entrance. Footmen and housemaids ran past him as he made his way to the butler's pantry.

"Dr. Clarkson," came Mr. Carson's voice from the pantry doorway. "I was on my way up to see if Lady Mary is in need of anything, you may come with me." The butler turned on his heel and headed for the servants stairway.

"How is Lady Mary?" he asked, falling in behind the butler. "And Mrs. Crawley?" he added hesitantly.

Facing front, the butler's lip twitched upwards at the mention of Mrs. Crawley but he didn't give any indication of his amusement when he answered, "It _was_ a rather rough night but I think that Mrs. Crawley was finally able to soothe both Lady Mary and the baby and they've all been asleep for the past few hours."

He knocked gently on the door to Lady Mary's room and they entered quietly as her voice bade them enter and they found her sitting up in bed with a light blanket covering her chest and shoulder as the baby fed at her breast.

"I apologize, Mi'lady, I shouldn't have…" mumbled Carson as he quickly turned his back and headed for the door.

"It's alright, Carson, I am properly covered," she laughed as he disappeared into the hall.

Isobel knocked on the partially open door a few moments later and let herself into the room. "Is Mr. Carson alright? He looked flushed and barely paused when I spoke to him in the hallway just now." She frowned when Mary and Dr. Clarkson laughed.

"He came into the room and found me nursing the baby and you know Carson, all propriety and decorum."

"That explains it!" she exclaimed and then turned towards the pair, "Is the doctor pleased with our progress this morning?"

Richard asked a few questions and examined both mother and child before packing his medical bag and reaching for his jacket. "Everything appears to be satisfactory with you and the baby, your Ladyship. I'll be back in a few days to check on both of you, be sure to have Carson ring for me if you have any problems." He watched as Isobel settled the pair more comfortably for a nap and then smiled when she walked past him into the hallway.

"And how are you this morning, Mrs. Crawley?" He noticed that she must have recently washed her hair for it was still damp and it was braided down the back of her head leaving several loose tendrils to curl around the sides of her face. She still looked tired but the gray cast was gone from her skin and the cloudiness from her eyes.

"Honestly? I feel as if I've awoken from a fugue state, half awake and half asleep, hoping to find it was all a dream," her voice cracking at the last. She gave him a grim smile when he reached out to touch her arm. "I know it is not a dream…I..I think I'll have the chauffeur drop me outside the village, the walk in will help me clear my head."

"I can take you back…if you like," he offered and then hurried on, "As a matter of fact, I'm on my way out to the Wilson farm to check on one of the farmhands who broke his leg last week. It's a warm sunny day and the drive might do you some good…and I can drop you outside the village on the way back if you're still in a mind for a good walk."

She seemed about to protest and then considered what he had to say. "Alright, just let me get my things from the other room. Shall I meet you downstairs?"

"I'll pull around to the front door and pick you up there!"

-o O o-

She was standing on the front step when he pulled up and it didn't surprise him in the least that when he stepped out of the driver side door, she pushed him out of the way and climbed up to sit in the middle of the front seat. It did surprise him that when he climbed back into the car beside her, she did not move to put any additional distance between them. He wanted to believe that it was because she still gained some measure of safety or comfort from his presence.

It was a beautiful summer day and he drove slowly through the rolling countryside and tried to avoid the potholes and soft spots in the road so as not to jostle her. She sat stiffly beside him but soon he noticed her shoulders began to drop and her hands unclasp in her lap as they rode along in a more relaxed silence.

When they arrived at the Wilson farm, she slid out of the motorcar to stand beside him and followed him into the farmhouse when he'd pulled his medical bag out of the boot. The man's leg had a compound fracture and a nasty gash that required cleaning and rebandaging before they could reset the splints. He was glad of her presence and her efficient hands and noticed that she seemed to take comfort in being able to focus on the task itself. They finished in half the time that it usually took when he made the trip alone and soon they were back in the motorcar and headed back towards the village.

He glanced over and noticed the faintly amused expression on her face. "Something funny, Mrs. Crawley?"

"Do you always get paid in picnic baskets?" she chuckled as she looked over at him.

"The Wilson's can't afford much but they insist on paying me _something_ for my visits so we settled on a picnic basket. Besides, a meal that I don't have to prepare for myself is always a welcome exchange." They were approaching a fork in the road and he made a quick decision to take the fork that led away from the village.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I know a little spot up the road where we can pull over and have lunch. Knowing Mrs. Wilson, there will be more than enough for two and we might as well have lunch before I return you to the village."

She gave a curt nod of her head and when he glanced at her again from the corner of his eye, he could see her staring down at her hands which were clenching and unclenching in her lap. He pulled off into a clearing and when he'd shut the motor off, he turned to face her.

"I'm sorry if you feel as though I am pushing you to do something that you'd rather not. We can turn around right here and I can drive you to the village or back to the Abbey if you'd prefer."

When she turned to look at him in surprise, he nodded towards her clenched fists and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, I guess I am feeling more anxious than I was aware of," she said with a shake of her head. "I really should eat something, please, let's have your lunch."

"Good!" he exclaimed and opened the car door to step out. Reaching one hand out, he jerked his head towards an opening in the trees, "It's just through there."

It was a short walk down a narrow dirt path that opened upon another clearing where stood a medieval stone church. An old oak had grown up next to it and the roots had knocked over the south wall causing the slate roof to collapse. There was a blanket of long grass beneath the canopy of the tree and he spread out a rug he had taken from the boot of the car when he'd retrieved the picnic basket.

He helped her down to sit on the rug with her legs tucked beneath her. Setting the basket at the edge of the rug, he knelt down and began to unpack the food that Mrs. Wilson had prepared. He rolled his eyes when he reached in and found two dinner plates wrapped in napkins and two slices of berry pie in a stone dish.

"What?" asked Isobel as he sat back onto the rug.

"I think Mrs. Wilson may be jumping to conclusions. She's packed _two_ of everything and even included a bottle of her homemade cherry cordial," he said with a wry twist to his lips as he caught the questioning look in her eye. "The cordial is very good, if you like that sort of thing!"

He reached across her lap to root around for the knives and forks that he was fairly certain he would find in the bottom of the basket when he felt her hand on his cheek. He looked to find her staring at his chin as her fingers stroked absentmindedly along his jaw. His hand covering hers seemed to startle her from her reverie and she turned her dark searching eyes to his.

"Would that be so awful?" her voice a soft whisper.

Turning his face to kiss her palm he said softly, "It wouldn't be awful at all."

She drew him closer and pressed her lips to his, hesitantly at first but growing more hungry as her hands began to roam over his chest and shoulders. She had taken him by surprise and his body seemed to respond on its own before his senses took over and he gently pushed her away so that he could break the kiss.

"No, Isobel, not like this," he said quietly and held her by the shoulders when she would have pressed herself against him.

"But what if it's what _I_ want? To give myself to you willingly?"

"No, you're hurt and vulnerable and I'll not press my advantage." He released his grip on her shoulders and was taken aback when she pushed him down and began to kiss him again. Eyes flashing, she rolled up onto her knees to straddle one of his thighs and reached for his tie.

"Then I shall _take_ what I want!" she exclaimed angrily.

He took hold of her wrists as her trembling fingers fumbled with the ends of his tie. He watched as tears of frustration made their way down her cheeks and her breathing became more and more erratic. He could feel the tension through her arms winding tighter and tighter as she tried to wrestle free until finally, she threw back her head and gave vent to the anger and sorrow with a keening wail before collapsing onto his chest.

He felt her shoulders start to tremble and he felt his own heart begin to break at the sound of her gut wrenching sobs. When she had gone limp and fallen over to lie beside him, he cradled her head on his upper arm so that he could look down into her face. The tears were as thick as the fluid that streamed from her nose and mouth. He remembered his mother once referring to it as the ugly sort of crying, it came with a true breakdown of emotions and as much as he felt embarrassed _for_ her, to bear witness to her weakness, he was glad that she was finally letting all of her barriers down. It didn't last long, she was already emotionally and physically exhausted and when she slipped into a deep sleep almost mid-sob, he covered her with his jacket and wrapped himself around to hold her and protect her.

It was only a half hour or so later when he felt her begin to stir beside him. He loosened his arms and looked down into a pair of wondering brown eyes. "Hello," he said softly when he saw the small twist to her lips that was probably meant to be a smile, "Welcome back."

"I'm sorry, Richard, to put you through all that," she said haltingly.

"Don't be...I'm glad to see you _stop_ being strong for everyone else."

"I had to be...I mean Mary..."

"Mary has her family to care for her."

She rolled over onto her back to stare up at the dappled sunlight as it danced among the oak leaves. "I am a part of her family... she was his wife, the mother of his child..."

"Yes, but you were _his_ mother..." his voice trailed off when he heard the sound of her voice.

"Matthew...my baby boy..." she whispered with a deep sigh, "That's the first time I've said his name aloud and not felt as though I were drowning."

"And that's because you're taking care of yourself, letting someone else be strong for you," he said hesitantly, "At least I hope that you'll let me be strong for you."

Rolling back over onto her side, she studied his face carefully where he had propped his head up on one elbow. Reaching up to push back a lock of hair that had fallen down over his forehead she said softly, "Do you think that perhaps we could begin again?"

"I'd really rather not," he replied perfunctorily.

"Oh, I see...well...I won't push myself on someone..." Her cheeks flamed when she remembered her brazen behaviour and she tried to move away from him. "Perhaps that wasn't the best choice of words."

Richard reached out to hold her beside him and then gently rub his hand up and down her arm. "Please don't misunderstand me, Isobel. It's just that we've managed to weather this storm, perhaps not _together_, but couldn't we see where we get on from here? Instead of starting over?"

A small bark of laughter burst from her lips as the tears began to fall again. Only this time, they were tears of relief. Richard lifted the lapel of his jacket from her arm to pull his handkerchief from the inner pocket and hand it to her. She laughed again as she dried her tears and blew her nose.

"I must look a fright, what will the neighbours think when you bring me home?"

"I can always take you back to the Abbey to freshen up."

"And have Cousin Violet see me like this? No, thank you!" she said vehemently.

This time, he was the one laughing as he turned to lie on his back beside her, their arms and legs touching all down their length. He lay listening to sounds of the leaves whispering in the trees above them and her deep even breathing beside him. Just as he imagined that she might have fallen asleep, he felt her fingers creep into his hand and twine themselves around his. He lifted their joined hands so that he could kiss her knuckles.

She turned toward him and kissed the outside of his shoulder. She started to shift closer to him when he let go of her hand and brought his arm to rest around her shoulders. She tucked her head beneath his chin and slid her arm around his waist when he began to rub his hand slowly up and down her back.

She leaned her head back to look up at him and when he turned his head, their noses bumped and he found if he tightened his arm ever so slightly he would be rewarded with a kiss. It was a sweet, tender kiss, full of promise...promises of warm hearths and rumpled sheets and a time yet to come...

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_**A/N2: I do hope you've been enjoying the story, even with the sad nature of the events. Please leave me a note to let me know what you think. Reviews welcomed and encouraged! THANKS!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Thank you all for sticking with me until the very end. Especially when what was meant to be three chapters of light fluffiness, turned into a huge pit of angst and drama…thank you, Julian Fellowes! Here is the last chapter and I hope that you have enjoyed the story.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own them, I've only borrowed them for my own entertainment. No copyright infringement is or has been intended.**_

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The trill of a songbird carried in on the cool breeze coming through the open window. She had woken gently with the morning sunrise as it slowly peeked up over the horizon. A sad smile brushed the corners of her mouth as she mentally ticked through the tasks still ahead on this particular day.

The front door of Crawley House banged open downstairs and the sound of giggles and hushed whispers carried up the stairwell. She heard the pounding of small feet on the stairs which stopped suddenly at the sound of a woman`s voice. Groans and then laughter faded away as she heard the familiar squeak of the kitchen door open and then close.

Her smile warmed and broadened as she snuggled down into the covers when the heavy weight of his hand settled onto her hip and she heard his even breathing in her ear. She felt him tug and closed her own smaller hand over his to pull _him_ closer instead. She laughed aloud when his long arms closed around her from behind, one at her waist and the other at her hip to pull her firmly back against his chest.

"Good morning, love," he growled in her ear and planted a kiss on the back of her neck.

"Mmm...Mary and Alistair are here with the children."

"There isn't enough time then, I suppose," he murmured between kisses and nibbles along the top of her shoulder.

Giving a pleasurable groan, she turned in his arms and leaned forward to kiss the hollow at the base of his throat. Tipping her head back, she studied his sleepy face and the crooked smile he fixed her with. She reached up to brush back the stray lock of silver hair that had fallen across his forehead and then smoothed his mustache with the tips of her fingers as she settled her arms around his shoulders.

It amused her that he still wore a mustache after all these years. He had shaved it off one summer morning when they first started courting so that she could see what he looked like without it but she found that she missed the familiar tickle of it across her bare skin and had insisted he grow it back immediately.

He leaned in to give her a gentle kiss but found her lips and mouth to be demanding on this Sunday morning as her hands slid down and over his hips. "Richard!" she exclaimed when her hands had come to rest over the slight curve of his bottom. "You've nothing on this morning!"

"I seem to remember _someone _insisting that I remove _every _stitch of clothing I had on when we went to bed last night," he reminded her. He found it endearing that she still blushed when reminded of her wicked behaviour though they'd been married for almost twelve years now.

Feeling the hot flush creep across her neck and cheeks she fixed him with a glare and said, "Be that as it may, the children will be up here soon and you know how Rebecca likes to crawl up under the covers with her Grandda!"

"Perhaps if I had a wee bit of _incentive_?" he raised an eyebrow and puckered his lips.

"Who am I to stand in your way if you'd rather have to explain..." her voice trailed off as she brushed her fingertips across the sensitive skin below his navel. Her smile widened into a grin as she felt the slight fullness begin against her hip.

"You wicked woman," he groaned and turned away from her just as the sound of children's voices began to make their way up the stairs. He quickly rose from the bed in search of his pyjama bottoms which he located under the edge of the bed when the knock came at the bedroom door. Richard's eyes widened in panic as his foot tangled in the fabric and he almost fell over sideways.

Isobel covered her mouth to muffle her laughter and then called out softly, "Who is it?"

"It's us Grannie! Me and Rebecca and Edward!"

"I'm not sure I know anyone named _me_...do you, Richard?"

"_Me_ neither! As a matter of fact, the only person I know named _me_...is me!"

"Grandda! It's _me_, Patrick!"

"Oooooh, well...in that case," said Richard with an exaggerated drawl as he fastened the last button on his pyjama shirt and tucked the covers in around them.

"Come in!" they grinned and called out in unison. In the blink of an eye, the door flung open and they were being smothered in hugs and kisses from their two youngest grandchildren - Patrick who was turning six soon and four year old Rebecca.

She watched twelve year old Edward as he walked sedately over to her side of the bed and placed the breakfast tray over her lap. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. On the other side of the room, Alistair placed the other tray over Richard's lap and admonished the younger children to be careful not to spill anything. He went to stand behind the chair where his wife, the Lady Mary, perched carefully on the front edge while the older couple ate their breakfast.

-o O o-

Isobel worried about Edward, he was a quiet boy with his mother's dark hair and eyes but every once in awhile, there would be a spark in those soulful dark eyes or his lips would twist into a delighted grin and he would be the spitting image of his father, her son, Matthew.

This all started back when Mary brought the baby over to Crawley House that first year on the Sunday they were to remember Matthew in the morning service. That was also the day she discovered that Richard had moved into Crawley House, that he and Isobel had married…almost six months before. Isobel had expected a display of disapproval and was surprised to hear the young woman mutter "about time" under her breath.

Since that time, Mary had met and married Alistair and they had begun a family of their own. Isobel liked Alistair and they had hit it off from the moment they met. They understood that they were both outsiders in the Crawley family and it seemed to draw them closer together. He had never once faltered in his support for Isobel as a second mother-in-law and always sought her guidance when it came to matters concerning Edward.

Likewise, Isobel came to consider Alistair as another son. Though she wanted Edward to know who his father was, what kind of man he was, she never faltered in her support of Alistair when it came to parenting Edward. And then there was Mary…

Isobel had never really liked Mary. She thought perhaps it was because Mary was so like her grandmother, the Dowager Countess, the Lady Violet Crawley. Steeped in traditionalism and unwilling to bend or exhibit any sort of flexibility when it came to accepting new ways of thinking or of doing things. That just wasn't how things were done at Downton Abbey.

But Matthew's death had rocked them both, right down to the very core of what they each believed. It had taught them that time was short and that one had to embrace every second of every day and make them count. Mary began to see the value in being flexible, willing to change, to embrace modernization and efficiency in exchange for time to spend with family and friends. Isobel began to see the value in tradition and structure, in having a time and a place to be together with those you loved.

And so this _family_ tradition was born, every year on the celebration of Matthew's life in the church service, Mary had brought the family over to spend time with Isobel. The family had slowly grown to include Richard and Alistair and Patrick and Rebecca. And it had forged a bond between Isobel and Mary, one that neither was certain they understood but both were grateful, for it turned out to be what saved them both from wallowing in their grief and allowed them to move forward with their lives and to love and nurture Edward, the future Earl of Grantham.

But today, something was different, there was a tension in the air. Though Edward was a quiet boy, he was very gregarious when alone with the family. He often tickled and teased his brother and sister and loved to snuggle with his Grannie Isobel under the blankets of a Sunday morning. This morning, he sat rigidly at the foot of the bed and watched as his younger brother and sister giggled and cuddled and stole bites of breakfast from the trays.

Isobel arched an eyebrow at Mary who shrugged and shook her head to indicate that she had no idea what was bothering the boy. She heard the clock on the mantle downstairs begin to chime the hour and began to make shooing motions at the children.

"The bells are ringing and we're going to be late if we don't finish soon! You know your Grandda's an old man and it takes forever for him to get ready to go anywhere," she teased and held up her tray for Edward to take.

Alistair had removed Richard's tray and he'd managed to get one grandchild cuddled up under each arm. "Did you hear your Gran call me an old man?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye when Rebecca solemnly nodded her head. "I'll show her!" He rose from the bed in a sudden motion, clutching a child under each arm and he moved to her side of the bed to stand and glare down at her as the children began to giggle and squirm.

"Be careful, Richard, your back," she admonished when she saw him grimace in pain.

"Alright, children, come along," called out Mary as she held the bedroom door open. "Let your grandparents dress in peace. We'll see you at the church then?"

Isobel nodded from where she stood behind Richard rubbing the tightening muscles in the small of his back. When she heard the front door close with a bang downstairs, she slid her arms around his waist and lay her cheek on his back with a sigh.

"What's the matter, love?" asked Richard quietly, rubbing his hands along her arms where he could reach and then turning to hold her close when he felt her shake her head.

"I don't know, something about Edward. He was so quiet and reserved this morning. Mary said that they didn't know what was wrong with him."

"Mary said?...I didn't hear anything…oh, you mean in mother-daughter speak," he said looking down his nose at her with a smirk. He continued when she gave him a faint smile, "Give the boy some time, you know how he likes to ruminate on things before speaking about them. You go have your shower while I go downstairs and tidy the kitchen and then I'll have a go while you're dressing." He leaned to place a chaste kiss on her lips and whispered, "And this afternoon, I'll show you how much of an old man I am!"

-o O o-

The service was as it always was, solemn and historical. Matthew was remembered during the sermon as was the Dowager Countess' husband, David, as he would be remembered until Lady Violet passed away. As Robert would one day be remembered until Cora passed away.

She felt a bit sorry for Mary, the woman was young and had been blessed to fall in love with a wonderful young man who accepted her as she was and with all of the difficulties that went with being a widow with a child and an extended family. Having died so young, Mary would be obligated to attend this service every year and be reminded of her loss at a time when young lovers and young families should be celebrating and growing.

They now stood in the graveyard where every year, the family placed flowers upon Matthew's grave. Where Isobel and Mary would stand with Edward as he tried very hard to know and to understand the man who had given him life but had been taken from him before he was barely even aware that there was a world other than that of his mother's womb. Where Mary would quietly fade away to leave Grandmother and Grandson together to contemplate and to talk.

"When your father was your age, he used to worry about telling me things too," she began.

Edward looked askance at his grandmother for a moment, wondering if perchance she was actually reading his mind. Then he shook his head and convinced himself that it was impossible and hurried to reassure her, "It's nothing Grannie Isobel, really."

"And I would worry about pushing him too hard to tell me," she continued without acknowledgement. "So I would guess at what it was. And since I observed the village boys teasing you outside the church earlier this morning, I would guess that you'd rather be out playing with your friends than stuck here at the church taking care of your Gran."

This time he looked at her incredulously before throwing his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly. "No, Grandmama, I love you and wouldn't rather be anyplace else than here with you!"

He was a loving boy, much like his father had been, but he was never clingy and his response had surprised Isobel. Holding the boy close, she kissed the top of his head and asked, "Why would the boys be teasing you then?"

"They weren't teasing me, Gran, they're waiting for me," he said quietly and motioned with his chin towards the stone wall separating the cemetery from the village road. Looking over she saw Edward's friends lined up, respectfully holding their hats in their hands as they waited a bit restlessly.

Still unsure of what was going on, Isobel looked down at him with a frown and asked, "Then what was all the prodding and poking outside the church this morning?"

Edward hung his head and scuffed at the ground until his grandmother reached out to raise his chin and force him to look her in the eye. "Mr. Richeson, the schoolmaster has been talking to Papa and Mama about beginning studies to prepare for university." A look of mild surprise flit across her face but she gave him an encouraging smile and nodded for him to continue. "Mr. Richeson said that he's arranged for a lawyer to come in from Ripon to speak with them about private tutoring."

"You've decided to become a lawyer, like your father," she said with a warm smile that faded quickly when she saw the look on the boy's face. "What's the matter, Edward? Your father would be very proud…"

"Gran, I…I don't want to be a lawyer," he stuttered and then hung his head again.

"Edward, tell me…"

"I want to become a doctor…like Grandda Richard…" his voice trailed off.

"And you're afraid that you would be a disappointment to your father?"

"I don't want to disappoint _you_, Gran."

"Oh, my darling boy," she exclaimed and drew him closer. "You could never disappoint me…and you are more like your father than you realize. He was afraid to disappoint his father and I when he wanted to become a lawyer, instead of a doctor!" She smoothed the hair off of his forehead so that she could plant a soft kiss before shooing him off to play with his friends. "Everything will be fine, I'll talk to your Mama and Papa. You run along and play." She watched him run off down the street, all smiles and laughter as he pushed and wrestled with the village boys. Turning, she found Richard and Mary and Alistair waiting at the cemetery gate.

Walking over to stand beside Richard, she reached up and drew his head down so that she could kiss his cheek. He smiled at her but raised a questioning eyebrow.

"He was afraid that I would be disappointed that he wants to be a doctor…like his Grandda Richard, instead of a lawyer, like his father."

"Studying the law will stand him in better stead when it comes to running the estate," began Mary who was taken aback when Isobel interrupted.

"And what of his wishes? What if has a true calling to medicine?" said Isobel firmly as she turned to face off with Mary.

"He'll still have to give it up when he comes of age and into his inheritance!"

"Why?! As the Earl, he becomes the patron of the village hospital, being a doctor will stand him in better stead for managing the hospital!"

"That's why Papa appointed an administrative board, to run the hospital…" Mary's voice trailed off as Isobel interrupted again.

"And managing the estate and the farms was what your father hired Tom Branson for, Edward could just as easily do the same!"

Richard and Alistair rolled their eyes at each other and stepped up behind their respective wives.

"And this is a conversation that does not have to be resolved today," said Alistair quietly in Mary's ear.

"And perhaps I can discourage the boy from spending so much time with me at the hospital," said Richard with a touch of disappointment in his voice.

Mary shook her head as if clearing away the cobwebs and said, "No, Richard…I never want to discourage any of the children from spending time with you or with Isobel. Alistair is right, this does not need to be resolved today. Perhaps we could discuss it when you come to dinner next week? Mr. Richeson was eager but I'll just tell him that we need more time before making any decisions." She reached up and patted her husband's hand where it rested on her shoulder.

Isobel gave a forced smile and then relented with a nod. "It really doesn't matter to me as long as it is Edward's decision." Patrick and Rebecca came running around the corner then. "We'll talk more next week." She leaned forward to accept Mary's kiss to her cheek. "Come then, my lovelies, give us kiss before you go!" She held out her arms to gather Patrick and Rebecca into a huge hug and then watched as they walked off with their parents.

She felt his hand at the small of her back and turned into the half circle of his arm. Leaning her forehead on his shoulder she took a deep breath as his hand rubbed slowly up and down her back.

"I packed a picnic basket while you were in the shower, what say we take a drive out to the old oak and have lunch there?" he said quietly in her ear.

"And you'll show me that you're not an old man?" she smirked up at him.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a relaxing nap in the sunshine," he said with a kiss to her forehead as he turned and began to stroll towards the motor car with his arm around her shoulders. "But if you've a mind to prove to yourself that I'm not an old man, I wouldn't be inclined to say no…" his voice trailed off seductively.

The End

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_**A/N2: I am going to claim plain old artistic license in having Edward, Patrick and Rebecca attending the village school. In my mind, with money tight on the estate and with an eye towards bringing modernization and efficiency to the estate and tenant farmers, a better education of the masses is needed. So rather than continue to educate the children at home, I envision an investment in the village school with private tutoring in later years to prepare the upper class children for university. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! LOL!**_

_**I do hope that you enjoyed reading this story. I always appreciate when folks leave me a review so please do so if you are so inclined! THANKS! **_


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